


Just Walk Beside Me

by mainstreamFragment



Category: Almost Human
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamFragment/pseuds/mainstreamFragment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the pressure of being back on the job begins to become a burden on John, he starts to use alcohol as a means by which to relieve some of the strain. Dorian wants to help John with his problem, but with two unsolved cases needing their full attention, saving John from his past demons is proving to be harder than Dorian ever thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the first draft and I have not revised or edited. I apologize in advance for any typos.  
> Based off a prompt by Tumblr user: falling-in-love-with-fandoms

“What do ya’ say we go celebrate another closed case at a real bar?” John asked as he fell into his spot behind the wheel. Dorian turned his head a bit to glance over at John. He usually sounded a lot happier about having a closed case, but John looked like he was ready to draw his gun at the drop of a pin.

Dorian wanted to say something to comfort John, but he didn’t even know what words would work. John had proven time and time again he was a fan of ignoring the biggest problems at hand. He couldn’t have possibly stopped the bends dealer from shooting his hostage. Casualties were an inevitable reality of the job, but Dorian knew there was no way he could convince John the man’s death wasn’t his fault. Dorian willed his mouth into as comforting a smile as he could manage and hoped that it was natural enough to seem authentic. “Haven’t we gone to ‘real bars’ the last three times?” he joked.

John’s head turned enough to cast a glance at Dorian, but Dorian didn’t miss the faint tick of his face that showed the joke hadn’t been _completely_ lost on John. John shook his head as he started the car. “No, Dorian. Those bars were just meant to get you warmed up to drinking again.”

Dorian felt like he was supposed to read deeper into John’s words, but simply tried to ignore the nagging feeling. “You didn’t already forget I can’t get drunk, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” John shifted the car into drive and pulled out of the parking spot. “But I assure you this bar is not quite what you’re used to.”

Dorian opened his mouth to respond, but upon realizing he didn’t know what quite to say, he closed his mouth and settled for nodding his head. “Okay,” he mumbled as he turned to look out the window.

The two sat in silence for a minute as they rolled down the highway. Dorian really disliked knowing that John’s mood was so low. “Do you think maybe we can do something else tonight?” Dorian offered, hoping John wouldn’t react too poorly. Dorian turned to see if John would react.

“Like what?” John merely stared straight ahead, his jaw sitting clenched as tight as his white-knuckled fingers around the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” Dorian answered. “Maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

John simply shook his head. “We can do that fluffy shit some other time. Tonight’s not the night for that.”

Dorian held back the sigh that threatened to come out. “Is it really the best idea to drink tonight, John?”

“Don’t patronize me, Dorian. It’s my business if I want to drink a bit after a day like today.”

Dorian ran his palms against each other as he looked out the window. “I’m not trying to patronize you. It’s just…I’m your partner and I don’t know if this is really a good idea.”

“And why would it be a bad idea?” John’s voice was getting quieter but heavier, each of the words separated with the slightest pause.

Dorian let his head fall back against the head rest. “You know that I know you’ve had a history of drinking, John.”

“Why the fuck do you still have access to my files?” John grumbled from his spot behind the wheel. “Ya’ know what, Dorian? If you think it’s such a bad idea for me to drink, you can just get out,” he practically spat out.

Dorian didn’t respond, merely sitting in his seat as he stared blankly out the windshield. The two fell into another bout of silence. As they passed a small shop selling cleaning droids, Dorian couldn’t help but feel like he would regret not saying anything more. “John, I’m sorry,” he said as he looked back over at John. “I just don’t want you getting hurt; you know that. Whose coffee am I going to warm if you’re sleeping in your bed hung over tomorrow?” He smiled, hoping it would help lift John’s spirits.

John puffed out a bit of air through his nose in something that resembled amusement and smirked. “You can warm your own coffee for all I care.”

A smile spread across Dorian’s face. John still looked tense, but a smile was better than nothing. Dorian knew he had to stop pushing John. If he could just stay with him at whatever bar they were going to, he could make sure John didn’t drink too much. If John kicked him out of the car, that’d be out of the question. Dorian settled for his small victory as he linked into the radio to turn on the rock music from the last millennium that John seemed so fond of. John’s body still looked like he was ready to snap, but it was still nowhere as tense as he had been. _He’s going to be fine_ , Dorian assured himself. _You just have to be here for him_. He nodded faintly to himself as a slight warmth worked its way through his mind.

***

John shoved his keys into his pocket as he slammed the car door behind him. “This is the place.” He could already hear the music blaring over the sound system inside the bar. It sounded like they were playing some shitty post-hyper renaissance jazz. He hated the stuff, but this bar was his best bet for getting a cheap drink.

“Really?” Dorian asked from the other side of the car as he climbed out.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” He really wished Dorian would stop asking so many questions.

He saw Dorian shrug his shoulders. “It’s just a little more ran down than I would have expected for your tastes, man.”

“Thanks,” John snapped as he walked toward the front door. The bar _had_ seen better days, but it wasn’t that bad. It was one of the few one-story buildings left in this area, and the outside did look a little rough. And maybe a couple of the windows were broken. But the place had…character. It was also a good place to go to get a lot of shitty alcohol for little to no money without running into people he would know. _Except for Dorian,_ he reminded himself as he heard the android sniff the air behind him.

“It smells…unique,” was all Dorian offered.

“Yes, it does. It’s called ‘shit,’ Dorian.”

“And we’re here because—”

“—I want to get shit-faced,” John interrupted as he reached for the door to push his way into the bar.

As he worked his way to the bar, Dorian followed closely behind. “Give me three shots’ worth of your cheapest vodka,” he shouted over the awful music. He refused to turn to look at Dorian as he saw Dorian cast a judging gaze his way from his peripheral vision. He sat on worn, leather bar stool closest to him, and Dorian claimed the stool to his right soon after.

“Anything for you?” the old woman behind the bar asked as she glanced at Dorian.

He shook his head. “No thank you, ma’am.”

John turned to watch the football game being projected over the far wall to his left. If the new angle on the bar stool happened to eliminate Dorian from his peripheral vision, then that was just a bonus.

After the bartender sat the vodka down in front of him, John downed the alcohol as quickly as possible. Dorian was being so quiet, John could practically forget he was sitting beside him if it wasn’t for the heat of the android’s thigh so close to his own. The night continued like that, a steady rhythm of new drinks followed by the android’s silence. John kept expecting Dorian to say _something,_ but he just sat there watching the game. It almost made John mad that Dorian wouldn’t say _something_. He needed an excuse to feel this mad, and he was starting to feel like shit over being so angry at Dorian with no reasons to justify it. As the night progressed, he lost count of how much he had had.

***

Dorian turned to look over his shoulder as he heard the main door open. A young girl was making her way toward the bar. She really didn’t look any older than 16, and Dorian didn’t like seeing her in a place like this. Her hair practically glowed under the lighting, the bright orange almost looking too flat and saturated to be natural. It was cut and styled into a pixie bob. It looked wrong on her, like some odd attempt at trying to look older than she actually was. But it almost had the opposite effect, making it impossible to ignore how soft and youthful her facial features were.

Dorian watched as she walked directly up to John. “Hey, big guy,” she practically whined as she climbed onto the bar stool to the left of John. Dorian watched as John drunkenly turned his head to look at the girl. John rocked his head back and forth a bit as he tried to focus on her face. “What brings a stud like you to a place like this?” she cooed as she leaned forward, clearly trying to show off her cleavage.

“I-I’m…uh…uh cop,” John struggled to get out. Dorian really didn’t like where this was going.

The girl only furthered his suspicion when she continued. “And would a big, strong cop like you want to show me his handcuffs?” She reached toward John’s arm and begin running her index finger over his upper arm.

John chuckled before letting out a burp. Dorian clearly saw the girl’s face contort in disgust, but she continued her antics. Before John could do anything else, Dorian grabbed the stool John was on and began turning the seat so John faced him. Even at this weight, with the amount of alcohol John had throughout the night, he was probably bordering on a dangerous blood alcohol content level. “John, man, we’re going to get you home, okay?”

John turned his head to look back over his shoulder at the young girl. “But sh-she..wee. Uh. Wants. Sssex. Sh-she wants sex. With me, Dor...Dori.”

“Yes, congratulations. Now let’s go,” Dorian said as he wrapped John’s arm behind his neck and over his shoulder as he worked his own arm around John’s waist.

“But Dori, she. She wa-wants me.”

“And I want you to shut up, but that’s not happening either, is it?”

John pouted as Dorian pulled him up to his unstable feet. “Fu-fucking synthe-yetic. Yooooo aren’t. Uh…fun.” John chuckled as he began taking uneven steps toward the door beside Dorian. “L-let me stay!” John shouted.

Dorian felt something tense inside him at John’s attempted use of the word “synthetic.” It had been a while since he’d heard let that word slip. “John, you’ll hate me in the morning if I let you sleep with that girl.”

“I hhhhate you _now_ ,” John shouted as he tried to punch Dorian’s side. Dorian braced for the impact of knuckles against his chest plate, and cringed as he felt and heard a few of the knuckles cracking.

Dorian wrapped his arm tighter around John and put a bit more force into his coaxing John toward the door. John was breathing heavily, and Dorian could tell his heart was beating far quicker than usual without even running any scans.

As Dorian pushed the door open, John began throwing a fit again, trying to work his way out of Dorian’s grip. “Fucking. Robobots doo-don’t app-reeshh-hiate sex!” The other patrons were clearly making an effort to ignore John and Dorian as much as possible.

“John, you’re making yourself look like a fool,” Dorian responded in as cool of a tone as he could muster.

“How dooyoo nee-n-no what a fool is. Like? Y-you don’t eeeeven haaaa-have a _brain_ D-Dor _!_ ”

Dorian felt his nerves reaching the end of the line, and forced himself to remember that John was just drunk. He hadn’t been such a prick about Dorian being an android since he first reactivated him. “Just get in the car and stop acting like an overgrown child.”

“A-at leeeeast I can grow!” John complained as Dorian opened the passenger door of John’s car.

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean, man?” Dorian shook his head as he guided John into the seat, making sure to grab the keys from John’s pocket before buckling him in.

Dorian made sure the drunk idiot had all of his appendages out of the way before shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side, hearing John’s incessant shouting the entire time. As Dorian slid behind the wheel, he looked over to John. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to dump you in your apartment and leave with your car.”

John harrumphed and then let out a loud sigh before grumbling something about synthetics being useless. Luckily, John wasn’t being aggressive in his protests anymore. The entire time Dorian drove them back to John’s apartment, John just kept grumbling under his breath and inspecting his injured hand. Dorian almost felt bad about the injured hand, even though he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop John’s fist from connecting with his chest plate that wouldn’t have caused him to drop John.

He followed the directions he had calculated from the address listed on John’s profile until he pulled up to the apartment complex. He noticed John hadn’t been complaining for a bit, and glanced over to see him leaning against the window, a bit of drool slipping from his mouth in his sleep. Dorian drove the car around to the side of the building into the parking garage that he assumed John parked in. He found a parking spot near the entrance and carefully pulled in to the spot. He climbed out of the car and walked around to John’s side. He rapped his fingers against the glass, trying to wake up John. But John just readjusted a bit against the window. Dorian knocked harder, but John just grunted. Dorian reached for the door handle, slowly pulling the door open and trying to catch John’s body before he could fall much.

“Dor, let m….m _eee_ sleep,” he whined as he pulled away from Dorian’s arms and tried to curl up in the seat.

Dorian huffed out a quick laugh before shaking his head. “I’m not going to let you sleep here after we got your ass this far.”

“I-is it a goooood ass Dor?”

“What? How the hell am I supposed to know, John?” Dorian asked as he unlatched John’s seatbelt.

“I un’know. Thought maybe. Maybe yooo would,” John grumbled, placing his hands on Dorian’s shoulders to help him maintain his balance as he climbed out of the car.

Dorian shut the door behind John and accessed the car’s central processing unit to lock the doors. “Man, I don’t know what that’s supposed to even mean.” They repositioned so Dorian could help support John’s weight as they walked toward the apartment building. “Do you still live in 14F?”

John nodded, then allowed his head to collapse over against Dorian’s shoulder. “How’d’ya knoooow that?”

Dorian couldn’t help but smile at this less aggressive version of drunk John. “It’s on your records.”

“Oh yeeeahh. Forgot you c-could dooo that. Stuff. You’re s-so human, I forge-g-get you’re. A synth.”

Dorian shrugged his free shoulder. “Uh…thanks? I think.” Dorian guided John to the front door, and they quickly worked their way across the lobby to the elevator. While they waited for the car to make its way down to the first floor, John’s cellphone began ringing. Dorian patched into the network and hissed out a quiet “fuck”. “Don’t touch your cellphone,” Dorian ordered before tapping into the call.

He focused on shifting his speech profile. “Maldonado?” he asked in John’s voice, attempting to sound like he had just woken up.

“I just got notified that Dorian had not signed in for the night. Is everything fine?”

He felt John lift his head off his shoulder and glanced over to see John staring wide-eyed at him. His eyebrows were drawn together in worry. “Yeah, we’re fine. We just grabbed a bite and stayed at the restaurant longer than we realized. We just decided it would be easier to let him sleep on my couch.”

She paused for a bit before replying, “Okay, fine. I guess it’s probably good for him to get out of that awful place now and then.”

Dorian felt like he should be offended, but she was right. His currently living conditions weren’t exactly ideal. And he really wouldn’t mind being roommates with John. _Well, assuming John doesn’t drink this much ever again_ , Dorian thought as John let out a loud burp beside him.

“You’re disgusting, John. But sorry for waking you up.”

Dorian couldn’t help but smirk. “You owe me, boss. Good night.”

John let his hand drop off of Dorian’s shoulder. “Why di’ya do that?”

Dorian looked over to see John’s head cocked to the side a bit and his eyes looking skeptical. “What was I supposed to do? Let her know how much you’re drinking again?”

“I un’know. Shhhouldn’t you w-want to re _port_ me?”

Dorian shook his head, his eyebrows pulling closer together. “Why would I do that, John? So you can get your ass landed in rehab and I get deactivated again?”

“When yooou put it li-like _that_ ,” John began before his voice faded into silence. The elevator chimed as the doors slid open. Dorian guided John in, and pushed the button for the fourteenth floor. John walked to the back of the elevator and leaned against the wall, while Dorian stayed near the console. The elevator beeped as they passed each floor, and let out a final chime as the doors slid open. Dorian waited until John had walked out to leave the shaft.

He followed closely behind John as he walked toward his apartment. John fumbled in his pocket for the keys, and clumsily tried to insert the key into the slot.

“Here, let me,” Dorian offered as he reached toward John’s hand to guide it to the right angle. As the key aligned, Dorian let his hand fall and John pushed it in all the way and turned it, pushing the door open in front of him.

Dorian pushed the door shut behind him, activating the dead bolt as he kicked his shoes off. “Let’s get you to bed,” Dorian said as he walked further into the apartment. It really was a nice space, especially compared to his living quarters.

John nodded and began walking toward a space that looked like it was a living room and bedroom combined. Dorian walked into the room, pausing as he noticed John pulling his shirt over his head, instead of just unbuttoning it. Naturally, with John being drunk, he managed to get his arms tangled in the shirt somehow. Dorian let out a quiet laugh as he walked up behind John and helped him get the shirt off.

“Uh…thanks,” John offered slowly as he turned to face Dorian.

“You’re welcome. You looked like you needed the help.”

John nodded as he glanced down at the waistband of his pants. “Guess’o. Uh…yeah.” John tried to unbutton his pants, but kept pushing at just the wrong angle to keep the button from sliding out of the hole.

“Mind if I help?” Dorian asked, knowing most humans would get pissed if he just started assisting them with removing their pants.

John kept struggling with the pants for a few more seconds before letting out a sigh of resignation and huffing out a “be my guest.” Dorian reached forward, carefully curling his fingers to unbutton the pants. As he did so, the knuckle of his index finger brushed against the trail of hair running from John’s belly button and disappearing behind the waistline of his underwear. John jerked back a bit, almost making Dorian lose his balance.

“Soorry. That tickles,” John slurred quietly.

Dorian nodded. “Sorry.” He tried again, this time successfully unbuttoning the pants without making John jump. “There ya’ go. Before I leave to go get the stuff to clean up your hand, I need to check your blood alcohol content, John.”

John nodded. Dorian took a step forward, closing the gap between them. He leaned his head forward until his mouth was near John’s. “Now breathe out,” he instructed.

“Uh-uh, yeah,” John forced out before letting out a slow breath.

“Faster, John.”

On command, John blew out a stronger stream of air. Dorian backed up as he processed the alcohol content. After a second, he nodded. “Okay, you should be fine without me watching over you tonight. Now do whatever else you need to get ready for bed while I’m gone.”

Dorian walked away and began searching for the bathroom, where he was sure John would have a first aid kit.

***

John stood in spot for a few seconds after Dorian left. He knew he was drunk, but he was pretty sure what just happened would have been confusing even if he had been sober. One second, Dorian was talking about checking how drunk he was, and the next he was practically about to kiss him. He knew it was just because he was horny and drunk, but he had kind of wanted to close what little gap was left between their mouths and see what it would be like to kiss Dorian.

He was one of the most human-like androids, after all, enough so that he actually sometimes forgot Dorian _wasn’t_ human. As he realized he was just standing there thinking, John reached down and pushed the zipper of his pants down. He pushed down on the waistband until the pants began to fall. He pulled his legs out of the crumbled pile, carefully balancing so as to not fall. He turned around and began climbing into bed. He heard a laugh from behind him.

“I really wouldn’t have guess you’d be the type of guy to wear bright briefs, man.”

John tried to make his face look as angry as possible with his current bodily control. “What would yo-you _think_ I would wear?” he asked as he slid under the covers.

“I don’t know. Boring, black boxers to match your personality, probably,” Dorian said as he let out a quick chuckle. He walked over to the side of the bed and placed the first aid kit on the nightstand.

“Shhut it. Y’know you like me Dori.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he said quietly as he ran the cold washcloth over John’s hand to get the extra blood off. John was quiet the rest of the time Dorian continued to clean and dress the busted knuckles. “Next time, don’t try to punch a ‘stupid robot’,” Dorian said as he closed the first aid kit.

Dorian shook his head, his eyes heavy with the post-drunk fatigue. “You’re not a stupid rob-b-bot. You’re my best friend, Dor-i-an,” John slurred sleepily.

Dorian couldn’t help but be shocked at John’s confession. That was a pretty big change from earlier accusations. It felt…nice. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. You’re my best friend, too.”

“You sleeping here?” John asked as he burrowed deeper into the bedding.

“Yeah, I’m staying here. I’ll just be over on the couch,” Dorian said as he gestured with his thumb in the general direction of the couch.

“The bed’s big enough for yooou to sleep here _too_. ‘t’s better. Than the couch.” John patted his hand lazily against the spot next to him.

Dorian shook his head. “You’d be pissed if you woke up tomorrow, sober and hung over with me by you.” Dorian began walking toward the bathroom to drop off the first-aid kit before making his way to the couch. As he walked into the bathroom, he could have sworn he heard John mumble “would not,” but couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it.

Dorian slipped the kit back into the medicine cabinet before flipping the light off and heading back to the couch. He lay down, his mind running over the events of the night. He kept thinking about what John had said: “best friend.” That was a pretty special title. It was…it was something. Dorian wasn’t quite sure just _what_ it was though. He was feeling something, and he didn’t quite know what to call it. _He probably won’t even remember when he wakes up tomorrow_ , Dorian thought as he lay on the bare cushions. The thoughts continued to buzz through his mind. “Good night, John,” he whispered as he forced his mind to silence so he could enter his standby mode and get some rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this chapter is entirely unedited, so I apologize for the inevitable typos.

John grumbled as he heard his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He clumsily rolled over and reached for it, but by the time his fingers tapped against the screen, it had already gone to voicemail.  He dropped the phone on the mattress, and it bounced to a stop beside his pillow. He curled back up, trying to ignore the light that was already coming through his window.

It felt like there was an animal inside his head trying to break free from a cage. John pulled his pillow over his head, but immediately regretted it. The air under the thick pillow made his already-dry mouth feel like it was full of sand. John groaned as he rolled over.

He couldn’t remember most of the last night. He remembered that he went to a bar with Dorian, and he remembered Dorian being an annoying shit, trying to convince him they shouldn’t go to the bar. He vaguely remembered some girl hitting on him, and then coming home with someone. Whoever it was obviously wasn’t here anymore, and John could only hope it was someone that wouldn’t cause any problems in the future.

John considered rolling over to face away from the window, but as he began to move, a wave of nausea surged through his stomach, threatening to escape through his throat. He let out a loud groan as he tried to turn his face into the sheets without upsetting his stomach any further. His phone began ringing again, and he began running his hand clumsily over the bed in an attempt to find it. His hand came in contact with the smooth metal; he wrapped his fingers around the phone and pulled it to his ear as he answered the call. “Hello?” he asked, his voice cracking a bit on the second syllable.

“John, it’s Maldonado. I pulled some strings and got you some time off. You don’t need to come in for the next two days.”

John ran his free hand through his hair. “That’s not necessary, Captain. I can just come in—”

“—I know you can, but you’re not going to,” she interrupted. “I know you, and know you’re beating yourself two inches shy of death over what happened yesterday. Just stay away from the alcohol and do your best to enjoy your time off.”

“Captain, I have open cases,” he argued.

“And you have no leads, do you? Just do yourself a favor and take the two days off. And I let containment know that Dorian is with you. I need to get back to work, but don’t let me see you at the precinct until Thursday." John waited until he heard the static from her end cut out before he turned off the phone and let it fall to the mattress. _Was_ Dorian still with him? Surely he hadn’t…done anything. With Dorian. That didn’t even make sense. Dorian was a male android, and John wasn’t…no. He knew that couldn’t have happened. They were just partners at work, and there was no way they were going to be anything more.

John let out another frustrated groan before he sat up and turned so his legs fell over the edge of the mattress. He felt like shit, his hand was bandaged and sore as fuck for some reason, and now that the alcohol’s effects were beginning to wear off, all the mess from the day before came flooding back. It was supposed to be a simple bust: find the dealer in his favorite alley back behind the noodle shop in the slums, catch him in the middle of a deal, and lock him away for twenty years or more for dealing the bends. But somewhere in the process of it all, the dealer ended up having a loaded gun and enough of a willpower to escape that he thought taking the man hostage and killing him would be enough to help him escape. He and Dorian hadn’t been fast enough to save the idiot who was buying from him, but Dorian did manage to tackle the dealer before he could get away.

By the time the paramedics were on the scene, the man had bled out. The only good thing to come from bust was that the bastard’s lightest sentence would be life without parole. But if he had done his job better, then the man might have been alive and in a rehab to help him get off of the bends and whatever other crap he was pumping into his system. But he had gotten sloppy and because of it, a man was dead.

John let his head fall into his hands as he thought about the day before at the bar. As much as he tried to remember what he had done, the memory started getting fuzzy around the third order. He could just barely remember a woman with orange hair. He also remembered wanting to kiss someone that was in his room last night. He had absolutely no memory of what he did to his hand, or how he even got home.

He pushed himself up off the mattress, grunting at the stiffness in his synthetic leg. The fucking thing always felt stiff, and on mornings like this, it usually seemed to not want to cooperate fully with what his brain was telling it to do. As he walked around the foot of the bed, he paused. So Dorian _was_ with him. The bot was sprawled on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the back and his body angled off of it awkwardly. It was still odd trying to remember Dorian was an android; the bottom of his shirt had ridden up his torso, and from where John was standing, he could see what looked like an entirely-human belly button with a trail of dark, curly hair beneath it. Hell, from where he was standing, he really couldn’t tell Dorian _wasn’t_ human. Whoever had designed the DRNs was either an insane genius or an amazing artist. Or both.

As John walked toward the kitchen, the synthetic leg began squeaking. John mumbled a quiet, “shit” as he heard Dorian stirring on the couch.

“Olive oil,” Dorian mumbled quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” John replied as he opened the cabinet door.

“You tried?”

 _Of course that’s what he’d pick up on_ , John thought. “Yes, this leg is the best noise maker I never wanted,” he grumbled as he dug through the cabinet in search of the olive oil.

“It lets you work, doesn’t it?” Dorian asked as he sat up on the couch.

John twisted the cap off the olive oil and dumped some in his hand. “Yeah, it does. But it just seems wrong having a synth body part.”

“Gee, thanks John.”

John threw a frustrated glance over his shoulder. “You know what I mean,” he sighed as he turned his attention back to oiling the squeaking joint.

“Do I really, though?” Dorian asked, pushing himself up from the couch and walking over toward John.

“Dorian, don’t be a dick this early in the morning. It’s just…it’s not the same. I’m literally less of a man; that’s not my DNA. It’s just a bunch of man-made pieces to remind me that I’m not naturally good enough to work anymore.”

John heard Dorian let out a quiet sigh from behind him. “Come here,” Dorian said quietly as he held out his arms.

“What are—” John began before stopping and just staring at the outstretched arms. “Do you want me to hug you?” he asked as he placed the olive oil down on the counter.

Dorian simply shrugged his arms a bit and opened his arms a little wider. “Either you hug me or I hug you; your choice. Either way, we’re hugging, man.”

John just stared open-mouthed at Dorian, his mouth slightly open in confusion. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” John asked as Dorian closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around his back. “Don’t you fucking squeeze me, Dorian. I _will_ get sick on you,” he snapped.

Dorian huffed out a bit of air before replying, “Nothing’s wrong with me. And there’s nothing wrong with you either, John.”

John stood awkwardly, his arms simply hanging down at his sides. To his surprise, Dorian was actually really warm. _Probably all the machinery running in him,_ John thought. “Yeah, thanks for the pep talk. Now let me go,” he grumbled as he pulled back from Dorian. He couldn’t say it wouldn’t feel nice to hug someone, but hugging his partner while John was still just in his briefs simply wasn’t his idea of a comfortable situation.

“I’m here to protect you,” Dorian said quietly as he stepped back. “Even if that just means protecting you from your own stupid opinions.”

The lack of fire behind Dorian’s words sounded wrong to John. It was a little discomforting, hearing the android trying to call him out. “Well thanks; not all of us are lucky enough to have our opinions programmed into us,” he complained as he walked toward the cabinet where he stored his coffee.

“And we both know that’s not how the synthetic soul algorithm works,” Dorian retorted as he pulled out a bar stool beside the island to sit on.

“Yeah, well part of not having an algorithmic soul is that mine isn’t perfect.”

“Are you implying my soul is perfect?” Dorian joked as he folded his hands on the top of the island.

“Shut the fuck up,” John grumbled as he searched for a coffee mug. “I’m not awake enough to deal with your shit this morning.” John quickly scooped the coffee grinds over into his coffee maker and walked over to the sink to fill his mug with water.

Dorian laughed from his spot behind John. “After how much you drank last night, I’m amazed you’re even awake right now. The fact you’re still alive right now is a bit of a shock, actually.”

“I didn’t drink that much; stop being dramatic. And yeah, I wouldn’t be awake,” John answered as he turned off the sink and reached over to dump the water in the coffee pot, “had it not been for Captain Maldonado calling me.”

***

Dorian didn’t like how much older John looked today. His eyes were bloodshot and lacking the vibrancy they usually shined with. His skin looked pale, and his entire body looked like it was seconds away from collapsing in on itself. “What did she want?” he asked as he watched John push the button to start the coffee brewing.

John shrugged as he turned to lean against the counter. “Wanted me to take the day off. I think she knew I was drinking.”

Dorian nodded as he ran his hand through his hair. “I tried to cover for you last night, but I think she knows you too well.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Dorian?” John’s eyebrows drew closer together as he crossed his arms.

“Uh, just that,” Dorian glanced down at his hands on the countertop, watching his finger tracing haphazard patterns along the surface. “You don’t always think of your own health when you get upset and sometimes you like to use alcohol to try to erase your problems?” Dorian answered, his voice getting quieter as he spoke. “I’m sorry, John. I know it’s none of my business, but we’re bes—we’re partners,” Dorian quickly corrected himself.

Dorian saw John’s face getting noticeably darker, and his left eyelid twitched a bit as Dorian spoke. “Yeah, well, partners or not, it’s my business how I spend my time off work.”

Dorian nodded, dropping his voice, “I know. I just like to think maybe I could help you find better ways, maybe. Sorry,” Dorian offered as he stood up and walked back toward the couch. He heard the coffee pot click off, but he didn’t look back. He settled into the couch and tried to clear his mind of the mess of thoughts running around. He knew John’s choices shouldn’t bother him as much as they did. After all, DRNs caring too much had been the very reason the humans decided to decommission all of them. And no matter what Dorian tried, John was always going to think of him as a robot, even if they _were_ friends. _If John will even call us that without alcohol in him,_ he thought morosely. And the world wasn’t ready to think _synthetics_ could help humans with anything other than servitude. Dorian was pulled out of his thoughts as John sat on the couch beside him.

“I didn’t mean to be such an ass,” John practically whispered beside him.

Dorian shook his head as he sighed through his nose. “It happens to the best of us.”

Dorian saw John nod beside him. “So last night…you were with me right? From the time we left till I went to bed?”

Dorian turned his head to face John and nodded.

John rubbed his finger along the rim of his coffee mug. “I remember…I remember wanting to kiss someone. Did I—”

“Don’t worry, John. You would have done it if I hadn’t stopped you, but I made sure you didn’t do anything with the minor.”

“The minor?!” John shouted.

Dorian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know for sure. I couldn’t find her face in any public records, but she looked like she _might_ have been 16, at most. She was trying to get you into bed, and I think you would have gone with her after how much vodka and bourbon you had.”

John’s head fell back against the back of the couch, his eyes staring aimlessly toward the ceiling. “So no one was in my bed besides me, then?”

Dorian nodded. “Right. I was the only person here last night besides you, and I was only with you long enough to make sure you weren’t going to die on me in the night and then clean up your hand before I came over here to sleep.”

“Oh,” was all John mustered before the two fell into a silence. Dorian nodded as he shifted his focus forward to the coffee table in front of the couch. He glanced back up toward John as he asked, “So what exactly happened to my hand?”

Dorian decided to ignore the darker details of John’s word choices and settled for the overview of the events. “When I tried to get you out of the bar, you got mad at me and tried to punch your way free.”

“And because you have such a dense chest plate, I busted my knuckles on your ribs, didn’t I?”

Dorian nodded as he shifted on the couch a bit. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s my fault, and we both know that,” John offered. “So are you bruised or…how does that work with you?”

Dorian lifted his shirt, and gestured toward the spot where he was punched. “It takes a lot more than a mere punch to damage this work of art,” he said through a smile.

Dorian was pleased to see John smile a bit too. Dorian focused on accessing the current time and begrudgingly realized how late it was. “We only have half an hour before we’re supposed to clock in,” he mentioned. “Are you planning on actually following the Captain’s orders?”

John shrugged from his spot on the couch. “We can follow them and still get work done. We just leave when we’re ready and check out leads on our own time.”

“I don’t think Maldonado will like you doing that,” Dorian offered.

John scoffed. “Yeah, well, it saves the department money and no one has to deal with your ugly mug at the precinct.”

“You know damned well people think my face is gorgeous.”

John set his coffee mug on the table and pushed himself up off the couch. Dorian couldn’t quite force himself to look away from the way the muscles in John’s back and legs shifted and flexed as he stood. It really was interesting seeing how he and John were so similar, yet so different.

As John walked off toward his rack of shirts, he looked back over his shoulder and joked, “Yeah, well I don’t, and I’m the one having to deal with it all day.”

Dorian knew John was joking, despite what he was saying. It was nice seeing the change in mood, even if he knew John was probably just burying everything he was feeling. But they were partners, and they had to stick together, even if John wasn’t a huge fan of Dorian’s intentions. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched a bit of the released episodes again and noticed some flaws in the layout of John's apartment I described. I altered those details in the first two chapters and tried to keep the corrections in mind as I wrote the beginning of this. Again, this isn't edited or revised (and won't be until I've reached a point where I consider this piece complete).
> 
> Any and all comments would be much appreciated!

While John was busy pulling on one of his standard black, button-down shirts and a pair of pants, Dorian walked over to the weights John had set up. He pulled lightly at them, not wanting to accidently throw them through one of the many windows. It was bizarre thinking that John had to lift weights daily to stay in shape while androids simply had far more strength from the time they were brought online than most humans could ever hope to possess. The weights barely felt different than holding a piece of paper in his hands. He could tell they were heavier, but they were still nowhere near the maximum weight Dorian could safely manage.

“Stop showing off,” he heard John say from behind him.

Dorian carefully placed the weights back on the stands. “Sorry, I was just interested in what it would feel like.”

 “Probably like a feather for you,” John replied, his tone starting to sound more forced again as he pulled the zipper of his pants up.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Dorian said, walking toward John’s gun holster that was still tangled with the shirt from last night, “I’m never going to know how rewarding it feels to know I’ve earned my strength like you have.” He squatted and tugged at the holster, gravity making the shirt slide till the shirt was crumpled on the floor again. Dorian dropped his palm to the floor to push himself upright. He extended his arm toward John, waiting until he took his holster.

John stood staring at Dorian for a second or two before he reached forward to take it. “Is that something you think about a lot? Changing how your body looks, that is?”

“Not really, it’s just one of the many differences between us that I just thought about. I’m sure if I was desperate enough for a change, I could convince Rudy to make the necessary modifications.”

John gently slapped a hand against Dorian’s shoulder as he walked past him and back toward the table where his coffee mug was sitting. “I don’t want to know what sorts of changes you’re thinking of,” he jested before taking a sip of coffee.

Dorian knew he’d probably regret it later when John would inevitably start holding it over his head, but he couldn’t waste the opportunity for a joke. “Oh it’s fine; I was just thinking of maybe asking him for a bigger butt. I’ve heard a good butt is the key to a healthy sex life.”

John began coughing frantically, coffee spraying from his mouth, cascading down his shirt and splattering across the floor. Dorian walked over to him, a loud laugh escaping him as he carefully patted John’s back in an attempt to help him dislodge the coffee from his throat.

John coughed two or three more times before taking a deep breath of air in. As he let out a careful breath of air as if testing to see if it was safe to breathe again, he shook his head and turned it to face Dorian. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, his mouth cut into a straight line and his face pulled into a tight mask.

 _Shit, I messed up_ , Dorian thought as he felt like a weight was being dropped into his chest. Before he could really react, though, the corners of John’s mouth curled into a smile and a deep laugh—one of the heartiest laughs Dorian had ever heard come from John—began bellowing from his chest.

As he began to catch his breath again, he shook his head. “Shit, I feel nauseous again. Where the hell did that even come from?” he asked as he looked back up at Dorian.

Dorian smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “You just seemed like you could use a good joke this morning. It’s a shame you had to go and ruin your shirt over it, though,” he mocked.

John set his mug back down on the table and began pulling his holster off, walking back toward his rack of shirts. “Part of me hopes your sense of humor is programmed, and for some stupid reason, another part of me hopes you developed it on your own.” He began unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and he grabbed another shirt off one of the hangars.

“Is that a compliment, Detective?” Dorian asked as he went into the kitchen to find a towel to clean up the spilt coffee with.

John scoffed, “You can’t say I’m always an ass.”

Dorian found a towel in one of the cabinet drawers and walked back over toward the mess on the floor. “I would never say you were _always_ an ass,” he began, looking up at John, who was looking at him as he cleaned the mess. “I would just say you’re an ass about ninety percent of the time.”

“Well, if I’m such an ass, then why did I win ‘Best Smile in the Precinct’ last year?” John asked as he pulled his holster back on.

“Because you didn’t.” Dorian stood and made his way over to the sink, where he tried to ring as much of the coffee out of the towel as possible.

“ _Shit_ ,” John cursed under his breath as he walked back over to the coffee table to retrieve his mug. “Why do you have to have access to every bit of public data in a split second? I can never get by with anything when you’re around, you dick.”

Dorian simply smiled, knowing John probably couldn’t care any less about him seeing through his bluff. “Ya’ know, even if I didn’t have access to the data, I still would have known you were lying with the way your heart sped up so much and your blood pressure increased.”

“Great,” John mumbled as he walked by Dorian toward the refrigerator. “A partner that’s going to call me out for every fabricated truth.” He pulled the door open, quickly grabbing a bottle of something and dumping it in his coffee.

“You mean, ‘lie’?” Dorian dropped the towel in the sink as he tried to see what John was adding without being too obvious about it. John had already put the bottle back in the refrigerator, shut the door, and started walking toward the door of his apartment where a pair of his shoes were waiting for him before Dorian could really figure out what he had added.

“Fabricated truth,” John iterated as he pulled the first shoe on with his free hand.

Dorian shook his head as he walked over to the couch where he had left his own shoes. He quickly pulled them on, lacing them while he thought about what he should say. He wanted John to know he _knew_ he was starting the day with alcohol, but there wasn’t a good way to approach the subject. When he had tried to point out John’s growing dependency on alcohol the day before, John had threatened to kick him out of the car. Besides, a lot of people did treat hangovers with a shot or two of alcohol to help them get moving. But was it okay to let his partner continue to spiral deeper into a life filled with alcohol without reporting him? But then, would John even want to work with him again if he reported him? Even if it _was_ the only way Dorian could think of to get John to stop using alcohol as a scapegoat?

“Earth to Dorian: are you rusting over there or are you going to get your ass moving soon?”

Dorian directed his gaze from the space on the floor between his feet to John, who was standing in front of the apartment’s door with his cup of coffee in his hand. “Yeah, sorry; coming,” he said quickly as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and hurried over to where John was standing.

Dorian noticed John’s eyes run up and down the length up his body as he approached.

“You look presentable,” John said before turning and pulling the door open.

Dorian felt like he should be offended that he was _just_ presentable, but hell, considering John’s general mood, he figured he should be thankful he even got that much. He followed John, pulling the door shut behind him and tapping into the apartment’s interface to lock the door.

A quiet “huh” escaped John as he slid his keys back into his pockets. “Maybe I should keep you around more often,” he said before walking down to hall to the elevators.

“I’m not your servant,” Dorian added, following closely behind.

***

John set his mug in the cup holder on the center console before sliding into the seat behind the wheel. Dorian climbed into the passenger side, pulling the door shut, and quickly settling into the spot that was basically his now. John thought of the idea: Dorian becoming a bit of a constant in his life. He had never been a huge fan of synthetics, especially when the first wave of androids came along with the sole purpose of replacing human workers. There was nothing that could replace the quality of human work, or so he thought. But Dorian was…different. What he did wasn’t quite what John would be quick to call “human” work, but he couldn’t deny it was still really good work. John turned the keys in the ignition and shifted the car into drive.

“So which case are we picking up today?” Dorian asked as he stared forward through the windshield.

John shrugged as much as he could without jostling the wheel. “Probably that burned John Doe that they found back behind that noodle shop.”

“The one over in the fourth ward?”

“Do we have other cases of burned vics since yesterday?” John asked, glancing over toward Dorian.

Dorian shook his head. “No, sorry. I was just trying to be conversational.”

“Oh…Well, yeah. It was the one that was dumped in the fourth ward.”

The fourth ward wasn’t exactly known for its pristine condition. In fact, the only ward in worse shape than it was probably the sixth ward, which was so close to collapsing in on itself that the precinct didn’t even bother touching most of the cases that came in from that district until all the other cases were cleared out of the system, unless the Captain flagged them as high priority. Even then, the files had a certain habit of slipping to the bottom of the priority queue.

Fourth ward had started out as a haven for the lower socioeconomic classes to gather in to protect themselves from the burden of living near the ever-more-corrupt upper class, but with the rise in the crime across all the wards, fourth became the nexus for criminal groups to communicate with each other.

Most of the large businesses had left the ward over a decade ago, but the entrepreneurs of the ward couldn’t afford to relocate. One such entrepreneur was Mr. Namgung who had been running his noodle shop in the fourth ward since before the wards had even been established. Three days ago, he had called in and reported seeing a severely-injured person lying under some of the garbage in the alley behind his shop. When the medics arrived, the vic was already dead. He had been fully clothed, but his entire body looked like it had been burnt: the little skin that remained was blistered and some parts of his body were charred down to the bone. The fourth ward wasn’t exactly known for its excess of security cameras or available witnesses in any situation, and the burned John Doe’s case proved to be no different. None of the nearby cameras had caught signs of anyone moving, let alone the John Doe or a potential assailant, and none of the locals had come forward with any eye-witness accounts. Even after carefully searching the entire area for anything that might be evidence to help build the case, the entire forensics team failed to find anything worth their time.

When Mr. Namgung had been questioned, he had said that he wasn’t even sure the victim was even alive when _he_ first saw him. The only possible lead they had was the victim’s fully remaining teeth, and the list of sixty reported missing males from the fourth ward alone that had the seemingly-brown hair and were five feet and ten inches tall that had been compiled. Even then, most of the muscle had been burned off the victim’s face to the point that matching the face to the portraits in the files would be impossible. With most of the missing persons not having dental records on file, there was really no way to even try for a match that way.

“So what’s the plan,” Dorian asked as they pulled out of the parking structure.

John knew there wasn’t going to be much of a chance of finding anything new at the scene, but he wanted to go back, strongly favoring the idea of starting from square one instead of sitting behind a desk speculating. “I say we go to the noodle shop and see if we can find a new perspective to look at it from.”

Dorian nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I just checked, and there is no new evidence on the record, and no matches have been found in the dental records we do have.”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect much,” John said as he cut the wheel to the right and pulled off onto the small side road that would get them to fourth the quickest. “I think I heard Stahl say that only twenty-five of the profiles had dental records of any sort.”

“If I parsed the files correctly, it’s actually closer to only twenty files,” Dorian answered.

“At this rate, we’re damned well going to have to create our _own_ evidence to get this case moving anywhere.”

John could see Dorian turn his head toward him from his peripheral vision, but he refused to take his eyes off the road long enough to meet the gaze.

“Are you implying—”

“No, Dorian. Rest assured: I might have some questionable interrogation tactics, but I would never think of planting evidence.”

John saw Dorian answer with a single, slow nod from the passenger seat. He heard Dorian take a deep breath in, as if he was preparing to sigh, before Dorian quietly responded, “It’s just…you’ve been acting different lately.”

John felt his body reflexively tense under the accusation, but tried to keep his voice calm. “‘Lately’? Dorian, you’ve literally known me for three weeks. I don’t think there’s much of a ‘lately’ to be considered there.”

 Dorian shrugged and began running his hand along his jawline, brushing at the slight stubble there. “I just…I don’t think you would ever do anything illegal, but it was kind of a convenient segue. But you have been drinking mo—”

“Dorian, I appreciate the concern, okay? But I’m fine. I just needed to relax a little last night, and I knew you would be there if something went wrong. I know my limits, and I would never go past them.” John knew Dorian could sense his heart hammering away in his chest. Hell, a normal human could probably see the rapid pulse twitching in his neck. If he and Dorian knew each other better, he might have been quicker to listen to Dorian’s argument, but he wasn’t going to have Dorian, who hadn’t even been his partner for a full month yet, sit there and lecture him on drinking when Dorian had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry, John. Just forget I said anything. We should just focus on the case.”

“Damned right, we should,” John grumbled, subconsciously pushing down on the accelerator a bit harder.

Dorian nodded again before clearing his throat. “So…the forensic team identified all the fresh organic matter as belonging to the burned body?”

John confirmed the question with a nod.

“Was there any other organic matter at the scene besides old food?”

“I have no idea how I’m supposed to know that when you’re the one with the search engine in your head.”

“It’s not really a sear—”

“I know, Dorian” John quickly interrupted as they passed the sign marking their passage into the fourth ward. “Regardless, I have no idea. There was none reported that I remember.”

Dorian nodded his head, turning his head to look out the passenger side window. “I can’t find any mention of it in the case file, either. And the results from the DNA test came in last night and his results didn’t have any hits in any of the databases.”

John took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to make himself relax now that Dorian seemed content with not trying to lecture him about his personal life. “Which databases did we use?” he asked as he rolled to a stop in front of the intersection. It was amazing no one had stolen the stoplights, considering they looked like they were the same lights that had been used back in the twenties. Considering all the other things that could fetch a large amount on the right markets, there was no way an antique light wouldn’t be worth _something_ to some drug addict somewhere.

John was pulled out of his thoughts as Dorian answered. “The lab searched the databases of citizens in all eight wards.”

“And nothing more?” John asked as the light flicked to green.

Dorian nodded, “Yeah; that was it.”

“So maybe the victim was from somewhere else. There’s no way someone from too far away would be in the fourth ward unless they had to be. Do you have access to the DNA testing?” John asked as he quickly turned his attention away from the road over to Dorian.

Dorian nodded. “Want me to see if I can find any matches?”

“Yeah,” John answered as he wove the car around a large, stuffed garbage bag in the road. “Just check the surrounding districts for now, and if all else fails, we can try to expand the search.”

“Okay, I’m going to stop talking so I can dedicate as much power to the search. Just punch my leg—Well,” Dorian corrected, “maybe you shouldn’t punch me any time soon. Just flick my ear or something—when we get there.”

“I’ll punch you when I want to punch you,” John grumbled in response.

“Yeah, and you’ll damage your hand even more while you’re at it,” was all Dorian said before his eyes seemed to glaze over and the light show on the side of his face began.

John carefully guided the car around the children that littered the crumbling streets, trying to keep from jarring Dorian from his processing. If driving like he was in a mine field would get them a DNA match before they got to the crime scene, then John could endure the creeping progress down the road toward the noodle shop.

***

Dorian shook his head in an attempt to orient himself as sharp pain shot through his ear. He let out a hiss of air as he gulped a breath in through his clenched teeth.

“Wait, what?” came John’s voice. “You feel pain?”

“Yes, John,” Dorian answered, clearly vexed. “I can usually control my reactions better than most people, but I still receive sensory input.”

“Oh…I didn’t know that.” John paused before adding a faint, “Sorry.”

Dorian quickly glanced around trying to reorient himself. The car was parked, and their GPS location confirmed they were at the coordinates listed on the file for the crime scene. “It’s fine. I told you to flick me to get my attention when we were here.”

“So did you get any hits?” John asked, sounding a little thrown off.

Much to Dorian’s dismay, his searching had not yet found any hits. “I’ve made it through two databases, and all two-hundred thousand of those were negatives. I’m still checking, but each comparison is going to take eight times as long because I'm having to verify my identity to access each record.”

“Yeah, well eight millionths of a second is still a _little bit_ faster than I could run the checks,” John answered, the sarcasm practically dripping off his words, as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and slipped them into his pocket. “Come on, let’s see if we can find anything worth-while at the scene.”

Dorian opened his door, climbing out of the car and quickly shutting it behind him. Before Dorian could access the car’s system, he heard a beep come from the car. Hearing a quiet huff of air, Dorian looked over at John and saw a grin being thrown his way. “Are you trying to compete with me?”

John shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say I’m not,” he answered, pulling his hand out the pocket that held the key fob.

“I’ll just go ahead and warn you, then: you’re probably going to lose,” Dorian teased as the two walked toward the alley.

“Oh, is that a bit of modesty I hear? And what, oh Great One, is it that I wouldn’t lose to you in?”

“Being a giant teddy bear trying to act like a grizzly bear is about the only thing to come to mind.”

John scoffed playfully. “As if you’re not a bleeding heart, yourself?”

“But according to most people, I’m just a synthetic bleeding heart and you’re an organic bleeding heart, making you the softer, more delicate one.”

John shook his head as they rounded the side of the noodle shop and found themselves standing at the entrance to the alleyway. “I’m not even going to begin to point out the problems in what you just said,” John retorted as he looked around. “Now, time to get down to business.”


End file.
